Miss, stop committing suicide

Chapter 5

I began to tune out the lecture and instead turned my thoughts inward.

Well, “introspection” might be too generous—it was really just a series of pointless musings.

At any rate, I came up with a new theory: maybe I’ve been experiencing hallucinations and delusions.

Perhaps I’ve been abducted by aliens and subjected to experiments, or maybe I unknowingly inhaled cocaine.

Sure, it might just be denial, but isn’t this all absurd to begin with?

The idea that I’ve somehow possessed a character in the novel I was reading…

Maybe—just maybe—someone accidentally spilled a generous helping of the “white powder of happiness” in my room.

Occasionally, I hear strange sounds—hallucinations, perhaps—or engage in what feels like a conversation with an imaginary friend.

Sometimes, it feels as though this girl, who should be long gone, is alive and talking to me.

When we converse, it feels natural in the moment, though later I recognize the oddity of it and feel a vague sense of discomfort.

It happens mostly during moments of stress—when I’m nervous, planning what to do next but feeling overwhelmed, or being bullied.

Maybe it’s just my way of coping with stress.

In any case, I’m displaying all the classic symptoms of someone who’s lost their grip on reality.

Time passed quickly as I got lost in such thoughts.

Before I knew it, the clock’s hands had moved past 10 and were nearing 11.

The classroom remained relatively peaceful.

If no one bothers me, I’ll be grateful.

Though I could see the startled faces of some students, the murmurs of others, and the predatory gazes directed my way, no one had done anything yet.

When paper balls or trash were thrown at me while I read, I simply ignored them.

Some went further, lightly tapping the back of my head, but it was all within “acceptable” limits.

At one point, someone hit my head hard enough to make a smack sound.

A few students giggled, but no one else cared.

Even the teacher glanced briefly at the commotion, closed their eyes for a moment, and resumed the dull lecture on ancient magical history.

It seemed like only four or five students were paying attention, but I suppose that’s enough to make the effort worthwhile for the teacher.

They likely knew the details of my family’s downfall but probably just saw it as karma—a fitting consequence for past actions.

Thinking about it, does any of this make sense?

A dragon burned down our estate, a fanatic seized control of the mines that provided most of our income, my so-called mother’s infidelity became public knowledge, and my father—well, as I mentioned before—died.

My elder brother, who was supposed to inherit the family title, was imprisoned as a traitor.

He might already be dead.

There’s another brother, but he’s only half-sibling and hardly human—more like half a person.

The family is finished.

No one even questions this series of events.

They just dismiss it with nonsense like, “They made too many enemies,” or “It’s divine punishment,” and move on.

I could accept it as just another quirk of a novel.

But if these events had unfolded gradually after I’d taken over this body, I might have had the chance to do something or at least received a hint.

Unfortunately, everything happened at once, leaving me no time to respond.

This stage was set solely to bring about the villain’s downfall, and I was dropped into the story after it was already in motion.

It’s maddening.

There’s no way out of this.

If there were even a sliver of hope, a hint of a solution, I wouldn’t have resorted to things like playing Russian roulette in a dark room.

Still, there’s one small consolation.

Or rather, this body considers it a relief.

At least I’m not in the same class as Vivian or Evan.

If they ever found out I was being treated like this, the shame might very well kill me.

Well, I suppose I already “died” once.

Choked on all sorts of drugs in a previous life.

Finally, the long class ended, and lunch break arrived.

I’m not sure if I intended to eat lunch or if I just wanted to escape the stifling classroom, but I got up to leave.

Just as I reached the door, someone blocked my way.

Looking up, I saw an unfamiliar face.

The girl was smiling with a mix of smug superiority and disdain, and I immediately knew what was happening.

Glancing to the left, I saw the teacher had already left the classroom.

A quick scan of the room showed most of the other students had left too.

The only ones remaining were Lydia and her followers, sitting off to the side.

I considered escaping but dismissed the idea.

This frail body couldn’t even shove aside a girl my own age, let alone run away.

Sometimes, just walking leaves me lightheaded and stumbling.

“Ha, ugh.”

I gave up and let out a hollow laugh.

Turning slightly, I saw Lydia lounging in a corner, legs crossed, smirking.

“Why are you laughing, Miss?

I’m the one who should be laughing, hehe.

Oh, but don’t worry—I’ll only play with you a little before heading off to lunch.

I couldn’t bear to neglect you after such a long time. My heart would break!”

She pulled out a small metal tin with a matchstick design and set it on the desk.

With her slender fingers, she opened it just enough to reveal the contents, then tapped the tin lightly, causing a single white-tipped match to pop out.

“Remember what you always used to say?

How people should maintain their dignity, even when gaunt, sick, or gravely injured.

What was it again? Something about grace being essential?”

I must have been brainwashed with that mantra since childhood.

As Lydia mocked me, a faint heat rose in my head, and the words slipped from my mouth before I could stop them.

“…Yes.”

“When a superior calls, isn’t it rude not to show up and instead hide away in your room?”

“Superior?”

“Well, your family is in shambles, drowning in debt, and soon you’ll be sold off.

Your so-called mother is embroiled in scandal, your father has long since fled to the afterlife, and you… you’re nothing now, aren’t you?

That makes me your superior, doesn’t it?”

She pulled out a match and waved it in front of me like a candy she was about to hand to a child.

The smell was awful—a strange, acrid scent, like something burning but not quite identifiable.

“They teach us basic magic here, so we rarely see or need things like this.

But commoners use matches to light candles and torches.

I thought you might need to know, in case you drop out of the academy.”

With a quick swipe against the desk, the match ignited.

Lydia feigned a playful ouch, hot! and tossed the burning match onto the floor, stomping it out dramatically.

“Alright, girls. Open her mouth for her.

And if she tries to scream, don’t bother covering her mouth—just knock her out and heal her with magic later.”

The atmosphere shifted, as if this were no longer simple bullying but something darker, like a noir film where someone gets dumped in the ocean.

Maybe they think as long as no one dies, it doesn’t matter.

After all, in a world where healing magic can restore even a mangled body, perhaps they’ve grown desensitized.

Two girls flanked me. One grabbed my lower jaw and pressed down firmly, while the other held my upper lip, preventing me from closing my mouth.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shut it.

“Oh, I’d be so sad if you dropped out after this.

But you’ve got nowhere to go, right? Hehe. At our age, what could you possibly do?

You’re so beautiful—you’d make a fine high-class prostitute in no time.”

Another match was lit.

Its white tip burned brightly before spewing acrid smoke, then flared red-hot.

With a smirk, Lydia flicked the flaming match toward my open mouth as if throwing a dart.

What more is there to say?

My mouth was seared to perfection, and the flame scorched its way down my throat.

Every breath, every swallow brought searing pain.

I writhed and twisted, desperate to escape, but there was no escape.

My vision blurred, my consciousness flickered, and foam bubbled in my throat.

Nausea surged, my trembling legs gave out, and I collapsed.

I think I even wet myself in the process.

The stench of urine mixed with my shame, while Lydia laughed and said something I couldn’t hear.

She tapped my stomach with her foot, grinning like a predator toying with its prey.

And then they left me there.

The group that surrounded me must have gone off to eat lunch.

There’s no way out of this.

No money.

No power.

No allies.

No strength.

The only options left are… well, becoming a prostitute or somehow managing to graduate from this place.

But even if I graduate, then what?

Why am I clinging to this academy?

What’s the point?

I suppose I could become a librarian.

But

Is that really what I want after enduring all of this?

I don’t know anymore.